


The Sore Loser

by GirlFromAnotherWorld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff, Healer Teddy Lupin, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, M/M, Puddlemere United, Quidditch World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlFromAnotherWorld/pseuds/GirlFromAnotherWorld
Summary: No one takes Quidditch more seriously than James Sirius Potter, and when he gets chosen to play for the English team in the Quidditch World Cup at only nineteen years old, no one is prouder of him than his boyfriend Teddy Lupin. But when England lose in the final, it's Teddy who has to pick up James' pieces, and only Teddy who knows how much it's going to affect him.
Relationships: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Kudos: 28





	The Sore Loser

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Teddy Lupin is only two years older than James Potter, and their relationship reaches a new trust and comfortability with the Quidditch World Cup. The first part is written in third person point of view, but eventually it switches to Teddy’s POV to give us an insight into the two boys' growing love.

If people thought that Oliver Wood had taken a Quidditch loss badly, then evidently they had never met James Sirius Potter. He certainly gave Wood’s self-blaming, ranting and brooding, post loss periods a run for their money, and made Oliver’s self-loathing look like self-love. 

Teddy had dealt with James’ despondent moments before; admittedly he could only count them on one hand, that was how good a Quidditch player and Captain James was. But they were brutal enough for Teddy to have experienced them enough. This was of course before England lost the Quidditch World Cup Final, and James it’s youngest ever chaser, blamed himself all for it. 

He was only nineteen at the time, having left Hogwarts halfway through his seventh year to train and play as starting chaser for Puddlemere United. You couldn’t deny his raw talent, and although many chose to hate him for it, neither could you argue that his drive and competitiveness weren’t exceptional. James had thrown himself into playing professional Quidditch in a way that scared, but didn’t surprise, those who knew him. Teddy Lupin, only two years older but partway through his healer training, forced James to move into his flat so he could ‘keep an eye on him’. Consequently, the best friends fell for each other. Ted spent half the time he saw James during that first year reminding him to eat and sleep, whilst also patching up the injuries he hid from the medi-wizards at Puddlemere. 

They’d grown up together: but living together, going through the period of their lives where they were supposed to find themselves together, and assert who they were in the world, they couldn’t survive that without becoming more than friends. Feelings blossomed, and James spent half his time in their flat shirtless, either working out or letting Teddy tend to some new bruise or cracked rib. So the sexual tension grew faster than either of them could handle. In the end, it was the news that James had been selected to play for England in the World Cup which finally brought them together. At the time he was still only eighteen, and the England coaches had admitted they were taking a gamble by picking him for the team; but the skills and commitment he’d proven in his short time playing for Puddlemere were enough to convince them James was the right choice for the team.

That day James had raced out of the Puddlemere head office, where the England coaches had given him the good news, and he didn’t even think before apparating back to his and Teddy’s flat. Because there was no one else, no one else who he would rather tell first; and that’s how he realized that he was in love with his best friend. A fact that he managed to blurt out right after he announced his Quidditch news. Fortunately, Teddy had also been harbouring his love for James for quite some time, never quite managing to pluck up the courage to tell the younger but wildly more confident boy this. So when James, panting and flushed and all but throwing himself at his best friend blurted out his love for him, there was nothing stopping Teddy from hungrily kissing him. 

And so that was that. They were together, and happily and eagerly loving each other to their heart's content. 

Even throughout their entire time at Hogwarts together, where James had played on and captained the Gryffindor Quidditch team religiously, as well as James’ Puddlemere matches, Teddy had still only had to pull him out of his depressive losing states five times. The Quidditch World Cup loss made it six. It was hosted in France, and Teddy stayed out there with his boyfriend for the entirety of the tournament. It was the happiest four weeks of his life, spending every waking minute that he could pulling James away from his obsessive extra training to explore little French villages or go up the Eiffel Tower, or more frequently spend as much time between the sheets as they could. Between Ted’s medical training six days a week or night shifts, and James’ long hours of Puddlemere and then England training as well as his own compulsive workout sessions at two am, the two young lovers didn’t get as much time together as they deserved. So France…...France was something everyone agreed they deserved. And it was all going rather splendidly too. Albeit James was sick to the stomach with nerves of letting the team down before each match, but his gleeful mood after each win made up for how unbearable he was pre-match. Normally, James had a tendency to prod and poke every move he made after a match, win or loss. But something about the World Cup euphoria left him in the most pleasant moods after each match, and Teddy loved each and every moment of his hyperactive and gleeful boyfriend, all high on adrenaline and drunk on quite a bit of French wine. 

Before the final James was the most nervous Ted had ever seen him, so much so that he made himself throw up with all his fretting. Fortunately his boyfriend was training to be a healer, and had managed to rustle up a potion to calm James’ fretting. That didn’t stop Ted’s own worrying either though, and he was quite relieved when three hours before the match James had to leave him to go to pre-match warm up. In the end, England played better, and lost almost on chance. The team playing exceptionally, and James even better. He had scored eighteen of the 24 English goals, and they were beating Ireland 240 - 100 when the opposition’s seeker dove for the snitch for the final time. It had been a particularly evasive snitch that match, the game going on for four hours before Ireland’s seeker finally managed to enclose his fist, just inches away from England’s seeker’s own hand, around the snitch. And that was that. Ireland won the World Cup. 

The problem for James was if England had scored one more goal it would have been a draw, and the match would have gone to penalties: an eventuality that after a 140 point lead it was highly probable England would have won. And James as a chaser, in his very James way, therefore blamed the entire loss on himself. 

Teddy's voice was already hoarse after the constant chanting and screaming during the match, but he figured he had a bit more talking to do today after he watched the way James flew on to the ground when the final whistle blew. His shoulders were hunched, and even from the high up Potter box, Teddy could see James' clenched fists and heavy breathing. He spent a few minutes huddled up with his team, before stalking out of view, straight past the photographers and journalists who he might usually humour with an interview. Teddy sighed, flopping down in his seat. He hadn't realised he'd essentially spent the whole match standing, leaning as far over the rail as he could to watch his boyfriend score goal after goal after goal. The rest of the Potters were in similar positions, disgruntled or angry. Ron had already taken up the stance that one of the Irish goals had been illegal, and it should have gone to penalties. Harry simply patted his best friend on the shoulder before coming over to sit next to me. 

Teddy POV

"Are you gonna handle this or do I need to?" Teddy’s Godfather half joked, a glimmer in his eyes despite the weary lines on his face. I managed to let out a laugh before running a hand through my hair. Blue today - James' favourite colour.   
"Don't worry, I've got it. James made me promise that I'd drown him if they lost, so I've got to go do the opposite." I admitted, my knee jerking up and down nervously. 

Back at Hogwarts, when we were just friends, I'd been the only one who could handle James' irrational post-loss despondent moods. I'd haul him out of the changing rooms or the owlery, wherever he'd hidden himself away to sulk and overthink every move he made during the match, and bring him to somewhere quieter. Somewhere no one was going to disturb us. In his sixth year, Gryffindor lost the house cup for the first time since James had joined the team. It was his third year as captain, an unusual feat for someone so young, but anyone who saw him as Captain couldn't argue that there was anyone better suited for the job. I was in my first year of healer training, but I came to watch the final match and cheer James on. The loss was completely the Gryffindor Keepers fault, he let in nearly every quaffle Ravenclaw threw at him, and no matter how many pep talks James could give him during the match, nothing could bring him out of his daze. So Ravenclaw won and James gave his team one final congratulations and talk before dragging his sorry arse off the pitch. I hadn't seen him since Christmas, and I missed him more than I’d expected to. Cheering him up after a loss wasn't exactly what I'd planned for that night, I'd hoped to sneak him out for a drink in Hogsmeade. But instead I found myself in the clock tower, watching James sulk on a stone windowsill. 

I hadn’t meant to creep up on him, but as I saw him from behind the pillar, I couldn’t help but hang back and watch him for a second. He’d grown since Christmas, that much was evident. But his lanky build was no longer lanky, he’d grown into the long arms and legs, filling them out with muscle and a confidence only a Potter could muster. I’d heard people say he was the spitting image of his grandfather, the original James Potter. He did look like Harry, no one could deny that. But his mannerisms, the cheeky troublemaker and shit-eating grin and Merlin the hair, that all came from his namesake. 

"Hey Jamie." I called softly, stepping out from the shadows and making my way towards him. For a brief second he smiled when he saw me, a genuinely happy smile. Then his head fell back against the window and his sigh tore away the briefly happy facade.   
"I screwed up Ted." He muttered, his voice all bitter and self-pitying. I sat down opposite him, tucking one leg up on the sill and pushing my back against the pillar. "Matt was so nervous, and all because Taylor had agreed to go on a date with him if he won." I frowned, of course this had to do with bloody teenage hormones. Matt was James’ other best friend, the quiet and calm presence to James’ loud persona. And he was also Gryffindor’s Keeper.   
"I don't see how that's your fault." I remarked, and he avoided my gaze by screwing his eyes shut.  
"I bloody set them up, Matt and Taylor. He's been crushing on her since like third year, but he's so bloody incapable with girls he could never find his balls and ask her out. So I got her to ask him out, only turns out she's got no bloody balls either. So I had to turn it into a bet, if we won the cup she had to go on a date with him."  
"How did you manage to get them agree to that?" I asked curiously, getting slightly off topic. I could see now why James blamed himself though, even if it was a bloody stupid reason to do so. He sighed and his eyes finally met mine.  
"If we won the Cup I also had to go on a date with someone." He admitted, running his hand through his hair. For the first time I noticed that he was only wearing his Quidditch trackies with a tight workout top, and I had to drag my eyes away from the muscles in his forearm before he noticed my staring. After that I couldn't stop noticing. James Potter had grown up, and his obsession with training and working out had paid off. Hell, he was hot now.   
"Who?" I asked, a frown on my face. Shit. No, no. I was not jealous of whoever would have been going on a date with James. My James.   
"Alice Longbottom." He admitted, a shit eating smirk growing in amusement on his face. His jawline, I noticed, had lost the baby fat that had always given him a slightly younger look. Merlin he could seriously get away with looking nineteen if he wanted.   
"James you're gay, why would you agree to go on a date with a girl?" I asked. "Admittedly Alice is hot, but she's liked you since you were two, everyone knows that. Sounds like a shit idea to me mate." He gave me a look as if I should know better.  
"You're the only one I’ve told Teddy. You know that.” He pointed out, looking down at his shoes almost ashamedly. Merlin I wanted to do something to make him feel better. “And when I suggested the bet Matt got nervous and said he’d only do it if I had a date too, so then Taylor suggested Alice and it all got a bit too out of control for me to go back on.” There was a moment of silence where neither of us knew what to say. 

“But you lost.” I said matter-of-factly. “So no date.”  
“Ironic isn’t it.” He said, a harsh laugh bubbling from his lips. “The very reason Matt and I were supposed to want to win, was the very reason we lost.” I shook my head at his dark humour.  
“I know you won’t listen to me when I say this, Merlin knows you’ve never listened to me befo-”  
“I always listen to you Ted.” He interrupted, his face serious and sincerity painted across his words. “I might ignore what you say, because let’s face it sometimes your advice is shit, but I always listen.” I shuffled closer to him in eagerness, my arm reaching out to grasp his arm.   
“So you’ll listen to me when I say that this wasn’t your fault?” I begged, trying to convey my best intentions with a pleading look. He smiled sadly.  
“And that Ted, is why sometimes I have to ignore what you say, because right now you’re talking out of your arse.” He announced, pointing a finger at me accusingly. I shook my head in frustration. “You know there were scouts at the match today? Scouts from Puddlemere, Chudley Cannons, the Falcons. You name a league team and their scouts were probably here.” I frowned, removing my hand from his arm. For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes as he watched my hand leave his bicep, but it was gone before I could be sure.   
“Is that why you’re so upset?”  
“Selfish right?” He snorted, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “Forget dates. Today was all about getting scouted for a professional team, and I’ve bloody ruined it. Let my eye off the ball for all of a second, allowed myself to get caught up in my mate’s girl troubles, and now I’m going to be just another school boy whose foolish dreams of professional Quidditch got dashed.” He sighed.  
“I really thought I could do it as well.” He murmured quietly, a forloren and lost look on his face that made my heart pang. 

But I couldn’t help it, he was so bloody idiotic and blind and self-sacrificial. I laughed, almost falling off the window sill in my hurry to show him how wrong he was. He scowled at me.  
“Shut up you wanker.” He hollered, his scowl only growing. “Go on, shove off. I’m just going to stay here for eternity and become the ghost who failed at the one thing he was good at.” He gave me a kick shoving me off of the sill. Luckily I landed on my feet, and I turned to him, smiling fondly.   
“Oh Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. How I’ve missed your dramatics.” Grabbing his hands I pulled him up, threw an arm around his shoulders and began to lead him away from the window.   
“Oh piss off.” He muttered, before giving in and leaning against me, letting his head drop on to my shoulder. He’d had a growth spurt, and was now only an inch shorter than me. “I’ve blown it Teddy.” He sighed, all self-pity and defeat rolled into one. I shook my head.   
“James Sirius Potter, your blindness to your own skill will never cease to amaze me.” I laughed, jostling him as we got to the stairs. But in a moment of seriousness, determined to cheer him up, I pulled him closer to me and stopped, head butting him so that he couldn’t look away from me.   
“Gryffindor may have lost the match today, but you, Jamie, played phenomenally. I’ve never seen you score so many goals, and that move you did with the beaters right at the beginning, the feigning thing, that was amazing.” He smiled, shaking his head at my praise, but I could see that it was helping. “You captained that team better than anyone has before, even your Dad, as if you were already professional. Any scout who fails to see that isn’t worth your talent. And if not this year, you still have next year to convince some jerk millionaire that you’re the best damned chaser they’ll ever sign.” He was grinning now, and before I knew it he’d pulled me into a hug, his face buried into my shoulder.  
“Thank you.” He murmured, before apparently pondering it and then adding “Theodore.” I scowled, pulling away from him.  
“Come on loser.” I said, shaking my head as he followed me down the stairs. It was dark outside now, and the light of the moon reflected off his face. Merlin I was deeper into this than I thought.   
“Where we going?” He asked, his hands jostling my shoulders as he pushed me down the final few steps.   
“To get hammered.” I responded, his grin growing at the sound of sneaking out. “I think we both deserve it.” He snorted.   
“I get why I deserve it, but I’m not sure what you’ve done.” He joked, his eyes finally lighting up as we made our way to the secret passage way we had both used many a time.   
“You little shit!” I muttered as he shushed me, pulling me round a corner after looking to see if it was clear of teachers or prefects. “I just pulled you out of one of your famous bad moods. Do you have any idea how hard that is? A drink is the least that I deserve.” He turned to me.  
“I’ll pay you back one day.” He said, his famous Potter smirk leaving me slightly breathless as the almost flirty tone of his voice registered in my ears. He disappeared into the darkness of the passageway behind a tapestry before I could ask him what that meant, and I never did ask. 

My feelings grew more and more after that day, and when he did get scouted for Puddlemere, I suggested he move in with me on a whim, and with mostly selfish intentions. But it paid off, and within the year we were together. After that first kiss, which left me breathless in more than one way, I understood what he’d meant about paying me back. 

So there I was, only six months together, but having just watched my nineteen year old boyfriend lose the Quidditch World Cup, and dreading having to go and stop him from doing something reckless. Like after every professional match, there were meetings and interviews and photos that the team had to do, but as this was the Quidditch World Cup final, there were double the usual amount. I stayed in the VIP bar with the rest of the Potters and Weasleys, counting down the hours until James would be free from all responsibilities. Finally, some of the England players began to filter through to greet their family and friends, signalling that I could now go and see my boyfriend. I felt a hand on my shoulder just as I was about to leave, and turned to see my other best friend, Victoire Weasley, with a shot of firewhiskey in her hand. She held it out to me.  
“You’re gonna need it.” Was all she said, but I knocked it back down my throat anyway, shaking out my shoulders as it warmed my body. I took one final deep breath before marching away from my family and going through the players only door. Fortunately, it was Oliver Wood who I found on the other side, one of the England teams many coaches.  
“Ah Ted, I thought you might be through here soon.” He announced, glancing at me before going back to watching a replay of one of James’ plays during the match which he had charmed to replay in the glimmering air. I winced as I watched him get hit in the ribs by a particularly nasty bludger for the second time. “Potter’s in the gym right now, third door on the right. He wouldn’t let any of our medi wizards check him over, so I’m trusting that I can let you take care of that, right?” I nodded sullenly, imagining the pain and defeat James was feeling right now. I ran a hand through my hair and muttered my thanks, already trying to write myself a script of what I was going to say when I found him. “Good luck.” I heard Oliver call after me.

I found the door quickly, but my legs almost took my back, a part of me too scared to deal with the boy I was about to see. “It’s just James.” I muttered to myself, pushing open the door and finding myself in nearly pitch black. I could hear the familiar thudding sound of a punching bag, and it was almost comforting. We had one in our flat, and more mornings than I could count I would wake to an empty bed and find James in front of the black bag instead. On those days it was only my mouth against his neck or my hand down his trousers which could bring him back to bed. I briefly wondered if this would work now. Wordlessly, I cast a lumos charm, flinging the soft light from my wand into the ceiling lamps. I could see him now, still in the tracksuit bottoms he had worn during the match, but left only in a white wife-beater. His hair was a mess, and there was even a new cut running down his face that I hadn’t been able to notice from the box. He wasn’t even wearing boxing gloves, and my heart thudded faster as I noticed the fresh cuts and blood on his knuckles. The harsh breaths he took with each punch already told me the bludger had done some form of harm to his abdomen, and I winced at a particularly hard punch. Thud.  
“You come here to lecture me about how none of this was my fault?” He muttered, loud enough for me to hear the bitterness in his voice. Thud. Thud. Two more punches.   
“No. I came to congratulate my boyfriend on how amazingly he played.” I said, keeping my voice placid and hard. Sympathy and coddling was going to get us nowhere right now. James needed a reality check. I walked towards him, stopping a couple of metres away and leaning against a stack of mats. Thud. Thud. Thud. Three punches.  
“Well you’ve come to the wrong place then.” He said, his breathing rendering his voice tight and harsh. He wiped the sweat off his forehead before changing his stance and carrying on punching the bag. Thud. He hadn’t even looked at me once yet, I hoped that was because he was weak enough now that he knew if he spared one glance my way he would break down. Thud. Thud.   
“And why’s that?” I knew I was pushing it, forcing him to say it all out loud, but I needed him to find some release to his anger that wasn’t ruining himself against the punching bag.   
“You really going to make me say it?” He growled, pushing a hand through his hair in frustration before going back to the bag. There was renewed strength in his arms, but I could see it faltering in his face. Thud. Thud. Thud.  
“If you believe it enough to reduce you to this madness, then you can say it out loud.” I spat, my patience wavering. A harsh noise left his throat, but he ignored me. His glasses were slipping down his face, and I doubted that he could actually see much through them, considering that they were still splattered from the match. In fact, James himself was a mess. His hands were bloody from the punching bag, every now and then he took a deep breath to steady himself from whatever abdominal injury was troubling him, and there were rips in his trousers from the bludgers that the Irish beaters had sent at him. I gave him ten seconds. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. And then I stalked forward quickly, grabbing his wrist before he could throw another punch. Our faces were inches away from each other, and now he could do nothing but look at me. On the surface he was all bitter rage and self-loathing, but we both knew eventually he would break and reveal a whole heap of emotions fuelled by something other than anger.   
“Fine.” He spat, shaking my hands off of him whilst keeping the eye contract and remaining inches away from me. I stood my ground, keeping my face hard and unforgiving. “You want to know why I’m pissed? Because one more goal-” He held up one finger, blood still running from the knuckle to the wrist. “one more fucking goal and the game would have gone to penalties when Ireland caught the snitch.” He breathed harshly and unevenly. He swiped a hand across his cheek, smearing blood before looking back up at me. “We would have won penalties.”  
“I know.” I stated simply, trying to sound both empathetic and hard. Tentatively, I reached out one hand towards him, simply planning on touching his side (his good side), anything that would relax him slightly. Instead he swatted my hand away, and took a step away from me.   
“NO YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!” He roared, surprising me with his anger. I’d hoped he’d be calmer by now. “I had so many chances, so many chances for another goal that I fucked up when a bludger hit me or because I fumbled the quaffle. We were so fucking close.” He took a deep breath, and now I saw him crumble. The bitter facade was breaking into pieces, and finally I saw the tears build in his eyes. “I was so close.” He whispered heartbreakingly, and the tears began to fall. They ripped through the both of us, his sobs doubling him over. His hands braced his body on his knees as he cried, his shoulders hunched and head hung. I was in front of him within a second, wrapping my arms around his back and letting him put all his weight on me. His face burrowed into my neck, his tears soaking the neckline of my t-shirt within seconds. I didn’t care.   
“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.” I murmured into his skin, pressing a kiss to his temple. Slowly, I pulled us down to the floor so I could lean my back against the mats, keeping his body flush against mine and his head in the crook of my neck. Our legs were overlapping and his fingers were clutching my skin painfully, and it was all awkwardly done but I couldn’t have given a sickle. We sat like that for a while, me letting him rid his body of the tears, him crying a river into the England Quidditch t-shirt he had gifted me. The one that said Potter on the back. Eventually he stopped crying, and we sat in silence. His heavy breaths were hot against my neck and his hands moved to clutch at my arms. 

“I wanted to prove them right Ted.” He murmured eventually. His voice was hoarse, but his words were so him. So truthful and finally he was telling me the real reason he was so distraught. “They took a gamble picking me, they took a chance and I wanted - no, I needed to show them that I was worth the risk. That I could take them to victory.”  
“And you did prove it to them James.” I whispered strongly, pushing all my love and belief for him into my words. I put one hand to his good cheek, cradling his head so that he could see me. “You were amazing Jamie. You’re nineteen years old, youngest wizard or witch to ever play on the English team, and you got them to the final. Ireland won by ten points Jamie, don’t forget that. They won by only ten points, and that was because you played the best game of Quidditch anyone has ever seen. It was you who did that, not anyone else. You. You proved it to them.”  
“But we didn’t win.” He sighed, his hands fisting in my shirt.   
“Maybe not. But you played like your life depended on it James. You didn’t lose through any fault of your own, sometimes these things just happen.” I murmured comfortingly, and I felt him calm down against me. He groaned, and my hands loosened on him in a panic that I’d hurt him in some way.   
“When did you get so wise?” He sighed, pressing a kiss to my sodding wet shoulder. I smirked down at him.   
“Well I have to be when you’re such a pillock.” 

He shook his head, before pushing up and surprising me with a kiss. I couldn’t stop myself from responding, my hands running up and down his muscled back carefully. But he pulled away, interrupting our moment with a chastised look.   
“Thank you for knowing me.” He whispered, all the bitterness and self-pity gone now. I pushed his glasses up his nose for him, having gone slightly askew after out kiss. Sighing while pressing a kiss to his forehead, I pulled him into a hug again. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, his arms tightening around my waist.   
“Thank you for always letting me in.” I whispered back, before snorting and adding “even if it takes a while.” He laughed with me, pressing another kiss to my neck. And another. And another. Helga Hufflepuff if he kept this up we weren’t going to be leaving here anytime soon. His mouth reached my jaw, abusing a spot just below my ear, the one he knew made me go weak. He maneuvered himself so that he was now kneeling above me, straddling one of my legs as he hunched over to reach my neck. His hands trailed up my stomach, one going to fist in my hair while the other went back down to my thigh. He palmed the flesh there and I moaned. I felt him smirk, his mouth finally coming up to mine.   
“James.” I half breathed, half groaned against his mouth.   
“Yes Teddy.” He answered cheekily. Merlin I could feel the confidence radiating off of him, the piece of shit. My hands went up to his chest, and he responded eagerly. Instead I pushed him off of me gently, giving him my sternest healer look.   
“James you’re injured.” I reminded him, and he scowled at me, already knowing that that meant I wasn’t planning on kissing him for a while longer.   
“Fuck that Teddy.” He objected. “I want you.” His hand trailed slowly up the inside of my thigh, and it took all my self-restraint to resist the horny look in his eyes. I put a hand on his chin and pulled his face close to mine. Nipping his ear, I whispered “You let me heal you and we’ll go straight home after. You can’t exactly fuck me with a broken rib.”  
“Watch me.” He snarled, his mouth going straight back to mine and his hands finding the waistband of my jeans. I laughed into his mouth, knowing that he would definitely try to fuck me, injured or not.   
“James.” I said one final time, pushing him away and looking him sternly in the eye.   
“Fine.” He groaned after a second, giving in and letting me haul him off of the ground. 

I knew now that he’d admitted defeat he would show how much pain he was really in, and I laced my arm under him as he faltered, a grimace appearing on his lips. I pressed a kiss to his temple, and his hand grabbed mine as I led him to a physio table. I helped him on to it, letting him sit with his legs dangling off the edge. I pulled my wand out, casting a cleaning charm on my hands, and then the cut on his cheek. He hissed, his hands gripping the edge of the table. I murmured a sorry, I knew one of just many to come. I closed it up quickly, just two charms and he made no fuss. I swiped a thumb over where the cut had been, making sure it was all closed, and he caught my hand in one of his, pressing a kiss to my palm. He smiled sweetly and I almost blushed. James Potter was a cheeky bastard most of the time, his one-liners wreaking havoc at the most inappropriate of times. He had a tendency to sneak up behind me when we were with family, wrap his arms around my middle and whisper in my ear “You wanna take a ride on my broomstick” in the huskiest voice he could muster. It never failed to turn me on. But at points he becomes the vulnerable man I fell in love with, and with the simplest of gestures makes me feel like the only person in the world. 

I healed his hands next, pressing a kiss to each knuckle when I’d closed the cuts and cleaned them of blood. There was little I could do for the already blooming bruises, but that wasn’t something which would bother James anyway. Finally, I needed to check his abdomen.  
“Shirt off Potter.” I announced, wiggling my eyebrows at him.   
“So this was your plan.” He started, peeling his sweat soaked wife-beater off. “You couldn’t give a flying knut about my injuries, you just wanted to get me shirtless.”  
“Trust me James.” I said with a smirk, pushing him down by his shoulders and pushing his legs up on to the table so he was lying down. “I know better ways to get your shirt off of you than this.” I winked and it was his turn to blush now. Mostly because he knew it was true. 

But when I actually looked at his abdomen I couldn’t help but lose the smile. The entirety of his left side, from his hip bone to just underneath his armpit, was mottled black and purple with bruises. I inhaled sharply, my hand tightening around my wand as I fought back the tears.   
“I know Lupin, I'm just too hot to handle." James laughed, his joke attempting to mask the soft worry he actually felt. But his smirk faltered, and Merlin by now he should really know better than to hide these things from me. I shook my head and pushed a hand through my hair, wondering how I was going to deal with this.  
“I've seen better.” I attempted to joke, hoping some banter would ease his worries. But when I let my eyes wander back up to his face, I could see the fear there. James wasn’t scared of pain, Merlin knows he’s been hit by more bludgers than Viktor Krum, and broken more bones than the entirety of the England team put together. But there was something about getting healed that always instilled a little dread into him. Maybe it was the vulnerability of putting himself into someone else’s hands. Back at Hogwarts, I always had to physically drag him to Madam Pomfrey to get fixed, and when I left school I had to leave him to his teammates to convince him to not leave an injury unchecked. When he began playing for Puddlemere I was the only one he would let tend to whatever new injury he'd acquired, so much so that the coaches stopped trying to get him to see one of their medi-wizards. They’d just send him home, or to St Mungos. Wherever I was. 

I spread my hands over his stomach, pressing here and there, noting where he cried out and where he remained silent. I watched him grit his teeth and murmured out twelve sorrys for his pain.   
“Godric Ted did you have to do that.” He muttered, reaching his hand out and lacing his fingers through mine once I’d finished my assessment.  
“Sorry Love.” I said, watching him unscrew his eyes and look up at me through both pain and humour.   
“You’d think after so many broken ribs you’d get used to the pain.” He groaned, shuddering and his neck twisting as I began the first spell to heal one of his ribs. I hummed in agreement, not willing to lose my concentration and muck up the spell. Six more spells and all three of his fractured ribs were fixed. I pocketed my wand and smoothed a hand over his forehead, threading my fingers through his hair and pushing his unruly locks back.   
“All done.” I whispered, looking down at him. “The bruises will take weeks to disappear completely, but I’ve put a spell on there for the pain and I’ll buy you a salve tomorrow, which should work better than the charm.” He made a face and began to sit up, using what I now noticed was only one arm. “Any other injuries you wanna tell me about?” I asked, raising one eyebrow at him.  
“Actually, pretty sure I’ve screwed up my shoulder as well.” He admitted guiltily, grimacing when I frowned.   
“James Potter you will be the death of me.” I sighed, going up on my tiptoes to have a look at his left shoulder. Sitting on the table he was slightly taller than me, and I could tell he was enjoying looking down at me. I pressed my fingertips against it, feeling the tight, swollen muscle.   
“Can you lift your arm up?” I asked softly, placing one hand on the inside of his forearm, ready to help him lift it. He did so fairly easily, with only a small wince when his arm reached the top. I sighed in relief.   
“It’s only sprained. I’ll put a spell on it for the pain and make you a potion tonight to help ease the swelling. But it just needs rest above all.” I told him. I brought out my wand, raising it to charm his shoulder. I was about to perform the spell when I felt his hands creep on to my hips. They remained there, harmlessly, but not so harmlessly because I couldn’t bloody concentrate when he did that. I groaned.  
“James…...Jamie.” He hummed in response, evidently not really concentrating as he hadn’t noticed his hands alone had rendered me useless. “You’re distracting me.”  
“Oh.” His eyes flickered up to my face, and his hands fell away from my hips quickly. A sheepish smile danced across his lips. “Sorry.” I couldn’t help myself. I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, pulling away before he could get any ideas.   
“Now sit still and don’t move so I can charm your shoulder.” I said hurriedly, wanting to get this over and done with so we could go home. He smirked, but kept his hands to himself and remained silent while I finished up.   
“Anymore injuries you need to tell me about?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and putting my hands on his hips while I moved closer to him. He leaned down smiling, his arms wrapping around my shoulders, and both hands twisting into my hair.   
“Nope, all fixed.” He announced. His eyes flickered up to my hair, and then down to my shirt. “You wore your hair blue for me.” He noted, a smile growing on his lips. I brushed my nose against his jaw.   
“Only for you.” I murmured, my hand squeezing his left hip, but my right carefully avoiding his bruised side.   
“I like this shirt.” He mumbled, his fingers picking at some bunched up material on my shoulder.   
“Hmm me too.” I murmured lazily, more concerned with the feel of his hands in my hair and creeping down my chest. His right hand tugged on the hem of my t-shirt, slipping under and dancing across the muscles of my stomach. I breathed in tightly.  
“You look good with my name on your back.” He murmured huskily into my ears, and I could feel the pride in his voice. “But I think I need to get this shirt off you now.” That got my attention, my eyes flying up to his face and hands tightening on him. He was biting his lip, eyes raking down my body as he took me all in. Merlin he was hot, and I wasn’t going to last much longer without his body against mine.

“Let’s go home.” He whispered, voice low and impatient. I forced him to to put his top and England jersey (which he’d carelessly cast on to the floor before I’d come in) back on before we left, and I weaved my fingers through his as we walked out the way I’d come in. Unfortunately though, in our loved up daze, we’d forgotten that the entire Weasley-Potter clan were waiting to see James, and we stumbled right into them in the bar. We both managed to mutter “shit” before James was ripped away from me, encircled in many hugs and congratulations and speeches of condolence. I didn't even manage to get in a word of warning about his healing injuries. Even more unfortunate for us, we’d spent more time in the gym than I’d realized, allowing everyone of age to get quite a few drinks down them. Ginny was pretty much hammered, and sang praises of her son loudly (literally sang them), before he was passed off to another family member. All of James’ uncles were drunk, even Percy who pretty much refused anything more than one drink usually. victoire was also a little tipsy, and she stumbled into me as I went to get myself and my boyfriend a drink.   
“Soooo…...did you get lucky?” She questioned easily, causing me to half choke on my drink.   
“VICTOIRE!” I cursed, wandlessly ridding my shirt of the brown butterbeer stain she just caused. The blonde half veela smirked.   
“Oh shh, you have a hickey it’s not like that question wasn’t completely out of the blue.” She pointed out. My eyes widened and my hand went up to my neck, covering the spot below my ear where James had left a deep purple mark.   
“The little shit.” I hissed, my eyes finding my boyfriend who was currently laughing at something Bill had said. Vic smirked once more and stalked over to her cousin, hugging him and leaving me too scared to approach the family. James spotted me nursing the hickey and grinned cheekily, winking before going over to see his Dad. Harry was probably the only adult there who wasn’t drunk, obviously preserving his sobriety in case James needed him. He sent a grateful look over my way when his son came over to him in high spirits, and I couldn’t help but smile back at my godfather. 

Lily came running over to me, her ginger hair flying everywhere and looking exactly like her mother in old pictures. I caught her under one arm, and she giggled before sighing.   
“Everyone is drunk and I want to go home.” She moaned, her eyes scanning the gaggle of Weasleys before returning to her brother. “He played really well, didn’t he?”  
“He was amazing.” I told her, squeezing her arm. “You reckon you’ll ever play quidditch professionally?” She shook her head.   
“I could never live up to Mum’s legacy.” She admitted, looking particularly nonchalant about it. I frowned and looked down at her.   
“Lil you could do anything. I’ve seen you play quidditch, you’re just as good as your brother and your mum.”  
“That’s very sweet Ted, but it’s a lie. I’m nowhere near as good as James, he puts way too much time and effort into it for me to rival him.” She admitted, smiling at her eldest brother who was deep in conversation with their father. “Anyways, I’m much more like Dad. I need some danger in my life.” I shook my head in humour.  
“You Potters and your way of finding danger. You’re all reckless idiots.”  
“Maybe, but you love us anyway.”  
I love you because of it.” I said, grinning down at the little fifteen year old, before allowing my eyes to find my boyfriend. He was staring back at me, a faint smile on his face. I winked, before returning to concentrate on Lily’s nattering about something to do with Hogwarts. I couldn’t really keep my eyes off of James though, and eventually she must have understood this, as she wandered off to bother Hugo. Albus came up to me next, stealing my drink from my hand and downing what was left of it. I looked at him in surprise, the drink I'd been nursing for the past ten minutes was a lot stronger than butterbeer, and yet Al barely winced.   
“Don’t bother protesting.” He said before I could say anything. “I watched you drink a lot more when you were my age. Besides, I’m going to need it if I’m going to survive much more of Mum’s drunk coddling.” I couldn't help the grin that dawned my face, and I ordered two more drinks to make up for the one he'd stolen off of me.  
“Don’t tell your Dad I got you that.” I warned, passing him one of the drinks.   
“And I won’t tell him about the hickey you’re currently sporting.” He returned, the same shit-eating grin that his brother was famous for appearing on his face. I bumped his shoulder with mine as my face turned red.   
“Bastard.” I muttered.   
“You buy me one more of these,” He said, nodding to the drink in his hand. “and I’ll show you how to get rid of the mark.” I looked down dazed at my boyfriends seventeen year old brother, and narrowed my eyes at him. He really was a Slytherin.   
“How would you know how to do that?” I asked.   
“Now now Lupin. Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” He pointed out, and I grimaced.  
“Definitely not.” I remarked, ordering one final drink for the crafty teengaer. He grinned and muttered a spell which I memorised for future use.   
“All gone.” I shook my head in amazement, before tapping my glass to his.   
“Cheers.”

An hour later, and I finally got my boyfriend back. We’d been eyeing each other from whomever we were both entrapped in talking to for the past half an hour, and I was dying to just get my hands on him. The moment he returned to me I tucked an arm possessively around his back, being careful to not put any pressure on his right side.   
“Are you going to be careful with me all night Lupin?” He grumbled, snatching my drink out of my hand and chucking it down his throat. He shook his head at the taste before returning his eyes to mine.   
“Only while we’re still in the presence of your family.” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek gently. I felt him slip his hand into the back pocket of my jeans, and we leaned against the bar comfortably together. We surveyed the group in front of us, our family, as they put on their coats and began to leave, calling out goodnights to everyone. We raised our glasses to each one as they left. Eventually it was just the Potters left, little Lily leaning against Albus tiredly. James slipped his hand out of my pocket, moving forward to hug his mother. I pulled Lil and Al in for a hug, before also getting encircled by Ginny. Even drunk she was actually quite coherent, and she murmured a work of thanks in to my ear. I smiled sheepishly and went slightly red, nodding my head when she pulled away. She ushered her two kids out of the door, leaving Harry with James and I. He threw his arms around both of us, squishing himself in between us and began to lead us towards the door.   
“Promise me when you’re back in England you’ll both come for dinner, feels like I haven’t had all my family under one roof in years.” He remarked, sending us both stern looks. I blushed slightly, even after all these years it still warmed me to be called a part of the family.   
“We’re gonna stay here for another week seeing as the team is paying for our accommodation until then, but we’ll come for dinner as soon as we’re back.” James replied, and I nodded with him. Harry let us go, bringing us in for hugs individually. Similarly to with Ginny, he whispered a word of thanks in my ear before pulling away and putting a hand on each of our arms.  
“But you must take us all for idiots if you think that none of us saw that hickey.” He announced, before grinning the Potter grin and hurrying away after his wife and kids. 

James and I held a breath before both letting out nervous laughs. I turned to him and wrapped an arm around his back, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.   
“You ready to go home Jamie?” I murmured, taking in the sight of the dark Quidditch pitch one final time. When I turned back to look at him I was greeted with the undivided attention of his eyes, which were darkened with lust.   
“Only if we can finish off what we started earlier.” He muttered, his voice low and rumbling against me. It sent a shudder through my body. I wrapped my other arm around his neck and let him apparate us to the front door of our apartment. All the England players were staying in rooms in a hotel on one floor, and when we apparated on to the doorstep of our room we managed to stumble across one of James’ fellow chasers. We both coughed and straightened up, sending him smiles that failed to cover up our eagerness to get inside. He simply shook his head at us, muttering something about kids whilst hiding his grin. James fumbled with the key, my hands running up and down his body not exactly helping, and once we were inside it took all of a second for him to have me pressed up against the wall.   
“I love you Teddy.” He murmured against my neck, already marking me again. I sighed against him and smiled contentedly.   
“Love you too Jamie.”

Hours later we lay together in bed, sheets askew and both of us sweaty messes and limbs everywhere. His head lay on my chest, my arm thrown over his shoulder as my fingers trailed up and down his bruise.   
“You know what Potter.” I murmured as we drifted into sleep. “I think I might want to spend the rest of my life with you.”  
“I had the exact same plan.” James murmured, pressing a kiss to my collarbone before going silent.


End file.
